Noise
by chickadee3711
Summary: Sometimes, all of the melodies you love turn into static. Sometimes, all the notes that you yourself created just turn into noise. Non-Sburb AU. JohnDave. Mostly centers on your four favorite people, and kind of (really) angsty. Rating is totally gonna go up.
1. Chapter 1

**John: Inwardly have a fucking panic attack.**

He honestly hadn't expected the temperature to top 96° when his plane landed in Houston, Texas. Heat waves were dancing above the blacktop when those wheels touched down and John's stomach swirled right along with them. There were multiple reasons for the unease in his digestive tract. The most obvious at the time was that he had decided yes, it was a great idea to wear long khaki pants and his Slimer t-shirt to a place where the high was supposed to be 106 degrees. He was going to be sweating buckets the second he stepped off of this flying vehicle. John's nervousness was also caused by the fact that he was new to this state and was going to be spending all of the foreseeable future there. His father's job, John being unaware of what that even was, had him transferring halfway across the good old US of A. And being only fifteen years old, he had no choice but to just go along with it. He was uprooted from his prior home and forced to leave his (few) friends just so he could bake in this sweltering heat. It had taken him so long to build up the meager social life he possessed; now it was gone. All that was left was his online buddies. That was horribly pathetic seeing as he didn't even know their real _names_. They just played video games with each other, partook in the occasional feelings jam, and messed around over pesterChum. Their names were never exactly necessary information.

John Egbert shot up from his seat when a stewardess cleared her throat loudly beside him, wanting him up and off of the plane as soon as physically possible so the next round of passengers could board. He muttered incoherent apologies even when his head was hitting the overhead storage. Messenger bag slung over his left shoulder, John exited just for the sake of saving himself from further humiliation. The stewardess busied herself behind him by cleaning up all of the miniature pretzels that they gave away as in-flight snacks.

His buck teeth, which he was so terribly self conscious of, worried at his bottom lip throughout the entire process of getting his luggage from the baggage claim.

Dad had said it'd be better if John flew, while he himself rode along with the movers to make sure they didn't jack with any of their belongings. The young Egbert agreed post haste and was on a plane within the next twenty four hours. John blamed his poor planning on the short time span in which he had to prepare.

In his pocket, his phone made a cheerful dinging noise, signaling that a text message had arrived.

_'I'm right outside with the car. You got all of your things, kiddo?'_

Curse that nickname to Hell and back.

John typed back a quick, _'Yeah, almost there'_, and stowed the device in his khakis once more.

Much to his dismay it kept chiming at him incessantly until he pulled fished it out of his pocket.

**- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:38 -–**

TT: Evening chum, any interesting shenanigans occur while I was gone?

TT: Oh, that's right, you're moving today.

TT: You must be on an airplane, no signal, ready to slam your forehead against the fold out tray.

TT: You poor pitiable thing.

EB: i'm actually getting in the car with my dad right now

EB: the flight wasn't so bad i just can't believe it's so hot here

TT: You never did mention where you're moving to. Feel free to fill me in on that minor detail whenever you like.

TT: If you couldn't guess, I'm quite curious as to where you're taking up residence.

TT: John?

TT: Are you still there?

**- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:56 –**

He was, in fact, still there. But John was foolish enough to get roped into a conversation with his father once situated in the car. It was something about celebrating their big move and what kind of cake he'd prefer. After vehemently insisting that there was no need for baking, John was finally left to sit quietly and stare at out the window while listening to his father's humming.

Blue eyes were stuck on the buildings moving past them. Most of them were tall, lumbering things made of brick and had windows that caught the setting sun to give the illusion of being on fire. Some that sped by were short and stocky; storefronts with aged signs that were in desperate need of a face-lift. More and more of these were cropping up the closer they got to their destination. Those stubby stores turned into suburban houses with trees on either side, though, and John felt the need to acknowledge the fact that he wasn't in Kansas anymore. And what he really meant by that, was that he missed his home in Washington. He'd never even been to Kansas. Moreover, he probably could not locate it on a map. His disjointed thoughts were broken apart even further by the stopping of the car. John looked over at his dad who was exiting the vehicle, then up at the house they were parked in front of.

It was quaint, to say the very least. There was nothing special about it other than the fact that it had a large moving van parked in the drive way. The shutters were a lovely shade of red, he noted dryly.

Heaving a heavy sigh, John made his way inside. Some boxes were already stacked near the stairs or in the room where their contents would be placed. A few of them said 'John' on the side in Sharpie. Instead of picking them up like probably should have, John just toed them with his shoe and went upstairs to stake his claim on a bedroom. The house was three rooms, two with their own bathrooms, one of those being the master bedroom. The other was just a regular four walled room with a riveting view of their backyard. Those flowers, they were so beautiful they could bring grown men to tears. Either way, he had to choose before his dad went all weird on his and decided it was better to let the guest room be the one with the bathroom, because it was only logical. John dumped his messenger bag in the middle of the floor with a resounding thud on the oak paneling.

The walls were bare and white, nothing on them but a few nicks from whatever furniture had been previously placed there. There were two forward facing windows with pale blue curtains still hanging from whoever resided in this room before him. John decided that they had pretty good taste.

"John, come on down and help me unpack some of this stuff!"

Damn.

"I'll be right down!" John yelled back, one hand keeping him precariously spinning around the banister at the top of the stairs.

* * *

Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.

After sliding down the banister like they did in movies, and falling unceremoniously on his ass unlike what happened in said movies, John helped his father pull their lives out of a multitude of cardboard boxes. This went on for about two or three hours until his dad stopped to make dinner. Of course, the first thing he did was get a cake in the oven. Once seated at the table with the confection in the center, and then the food with real nutritional value placed around it, John waited for constant babbling. To his surprise, nothing came. By this point his father would normally be talking his ear off. They just listened to the sounds of their own chewing.

"So," John started after spooning some mashed potatoes into his mouth, "when do you start work?"

His father politely swallowed and replied, "Same day you go back to school, next Monday."

It was August wasn't it? He'd been so wrapped up in finding out he was moving over the summer to really notice the time slipping away from him.

"What grade are you in again? You know I'm not good at remembering these things."

"Eleventh," he said, "I'll be a junior."

His dad let out a nostalgic sigh, and John knew that he was going to have to sit through more reminiscing of his father's glory days. "I remember my junior year…"

That was his queue to zone the fuck out.

**John: Somehow travel through time and ****_be the cool kid_****.**

It was Monday morning, blood was congealed on his cheek and partially on his neck, flaking off every time he turned his head to look for Bro. His palms were starting to sweat slightly due to the heat and his white-knuckled grip on the handle of his katana. None of this seemed to faze him, though. Dave Strider was in the middle of a strife, and if he slipped up even a little, he'd be suffering from it for at least a week.

"Bro, I don't have time for this," Dave almost growled, because he wasn't going to lose his composure over something so small. "School starts in like twenty fucking minutes."

Speaking was obviously a bad choice on his part. This momentary lapse in concentration resulted in the handle of a sword jabbing between his shoulder blades. As he bent over to groan in pain, the blunt edge of that same sword was brought harshly across his shins. Dave dropped down and let the katana fall from his hands. If he kept fighting, he'd be late for sure. Surrender was his only way out at this point. Plus, it wasn't as if Bro hadn't handed his ass to him on a silver platter before. One more time wouldn't kill him.

The gleaming point of Bro's sword caught underneath his chin and lifted it so he had to face his brother, shaded eyes narrowed. That smirk he was wearing was insufferable.

"You mean you don't have time for some brotherly bondi-"

"Bro, seriously I have to leav- fuck!"

Dave hissed as the tip was driven further into his flesh, to the point now where it actually drew blood. He'd slap a band-aid on it later and call it good.

"Whatever. Just clean yourself up before you leave, kid."

As if he was going to walk into school on the first day with blood on his face. He'd made that mistake freshman year. Never again. Never.

Once the blade was gone and Bro was walking down to their apartment, Dave rose to his feet and grumbled, "That's kind of what I was planning on doing."

Practically flying down the fire escape, he rushed to get ready. He scrubbed away the crimson stains as best he could without reopening the wound then changed into a new shirt. Gauze taped to his cheek and a bottle of apple juice in hand, the only healthy thing they had in that damned apartment, Dave was bolting out the door to spend another 180 days minimum at a place that he hated. Sometimes he wondered what made this shit worth it.

The worn out soles of his ironically trendy converse slapped against the concrete as he ran. He took the steps in front of the school two at a time and pushed past the few lingering students so he could slide into his seat as the bell rang.

To most people around him, he was just a flash of white and red and black. Bro would've been proud had he the capacity to feel proud of anything but himself.

Dave took the seat closest to the window, third row from the back. It was just close enough to get the gist of the lesson and far enough away that he could drift off whenever he wanted. He figured it was a good time to do just that after Ms. Moore called his name for attendance. Calloused fingertips pushed in a pair of over-used ear buds that were threaded up the back of his shirt so the teachers wouldn't notice him listening to music in class.

Sick beats flooded his mind, a strong bass line pounded in his ears, and that was all it took for Dave to forget about reality.

* * *

**Welp, I am officially the master of starting things before finishing other things. This not only applies to my stories, but to my schoolwork, and to my art. Darn.**

**Either way, I think this is going to be pretty fun. I like the characters, the subject matter, and the fact that I get to cuss and stuff. ^^ A juvenile love of mine but whatever.**

**Updates will happen randomly.**

**And to certain people out there that are gonna be all 'John isn't gay!', well, you know what? He is in my head. I never invited you to the party in my head, so kindly leave, and stick to your happy corner of the world. **

**Gosh I am just an odd little duck today (joke between my family members and English classmates). I should start signing off as that...nah. Chickadee sounds cuter. And I just so happen to be adorable.**

**~Chickadee**


	2. Chapter 2

**John: Wonder what exactly happened to that bespectacled youth.**

He looked like he got hit by a car! That was a blatant exaggeration but John hadn't the slightest clue as to what could've happened to give him those injuries. A Pac-Man band-aid was stuck to the underside of his chin and a patch of gauze was taped to his cheek. If he wasn't mistaken, he could see burgundy specks peeking through the white cloth. John's stomach roiled slightly at the realization that it was most likely blood.

The boy's name, Dave, had just been called out by the teacher. A slight nod was all that she got in reply from the blonde, and almost immediately after this he had gone to listening to music. From John's seat, one row back and four chairs to the right, he could see the cord snaking out from beneath the collar of Dave's shirt. He wondered idly what kind of music he was into. It was probably something underground that nobody really listened to, or possibly that unorthodox music that consisted of high-hats and beeping sounds. John himself preferred classical songs composed on the piano with the occasional violin accompaniment. Would Dave think he was a loser for that? He did seem to be the bona fide cool kid after all. These thoughts occupied his frazzled brain until one particularly important notion pushed to the forefront: why did he care what Mr. Dave Strider thought of him? He'd never even talked to him before. John figured he had a serious guy-crush on his hands.

A guy-crush, quite similar in nature to a girl-crush, is the insane urge to get to know someone without any real incentive. There are various levels of guy-crush, but the most common is the 'let's be best friends for no apparent reason', and John had it bad.

For the remaining forty five minutes of class, John busied himself with making a game plan that would ultimately result in his befriending of the young Strider boy. It was simple enough in its design but there was a multitude of ways he could fuck this one up. There was the ever present possibility that he would stutter to high Heaven and look like an imbecile. Another worry was that he would trip over his own two feet. John double checked his shoe laces just to be careful. They say it's always better to be safe than sorry. So when the bell rang, signaling the end of a pointless first period, John made his way over to his potential friend.

He tapped a bony finger against the blonde's shoulder. Yet again, he was chewing his bottom lip from anxiety.

Dave looked at him from behind his aviators, suppressing an annoyed sigh as he pulled the ear bud out with a tiny pop.

"Yeah?"

His voice was wow. That was the only way John could think to describe the way it flowed, even though only one word was spoken. It wasn't particularly deep, but it was lower than John's, and if he wasn't feeling self conscious before then he definitely was now.

"Did you want something?" Dave asked, brows furrowed frustratedly. Much to the black haired boy's embarrassment, he squeaked.

"Oh! I just, uhm, wanted to know what happened to your cheek." John swung his hand up to point at the injury and nearly smacked Dave in the face. The blonde stepped back just enough to avoid the accidental attack.

"Just some strifing with my bro," he replied and rubbed at the wound as if he had forgotten it was there. His tone was dismissive enough to make John shrink back.

"Does it hurt?" he asked meekly.

Dave's expression was more blank now than it had been mere seconds ago.

"Naw man, it fucking tickles."

John stood there and watched the retreating form of what he had hoped would be his first friend in Texas.

Quite smooth, Mister Egbert.

**John: Continue life as a sad little wallflower.**

The next three classes weren't too awfully bad despite the fact that Dave was in all of them but one. It made John want to crawl under a rock and hide but alas, the most he could do was stick his nose in a book and drown out the world. Once his awareness of the outside was noticeably dulled, it wasn't too hard to forget about his prior embarrassment.

Another bell sounded overhead and he knew the worst had yet to come. According to the tattered yellow slip in his hands, he had to go to lunch next. Walking into that lunch room as a new student was a fate worse than death.

Brown sack lunch in hand, John sat himself down at an empty table near the large windows. Nobody looked at him really and he couldn't say that he minded. He took the time to observe where the different cliques sat just for future reference.

There was a table not too far from his with a lanky boy draped across the top, his black hair mussed and unruly. Was that grease paint? He had grey and white harlequin designs painted over his features. His laughter was audible even with the distance between them. At his side was a shorter boy with a dark scowl as he brought the back of his hand down across the other's head. His companion seemed to laugh louder because of it. After a bout of cursing they were joined by a young girl with little cat ear hairclips stuck into her hair.

John made a mental note to leave that little circus show alone.

Nearby were a boy and girl walking with their trays. The boy had black hair streaked with purple, a scarf wrapped around his neck and thick rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his noise. _Douche_, John thought with a silent chuckle. The girl seemed kind but had quite an odd taste in fashion.

John turned to survey the rest of the cafeteria and let out a completely masculine noise of surprise when faced by a smirking blonde. The hair color was reminiscent of Dave's and this girl was just as pale, lacking the freckles that were scattered about Dave's cheeks.

"I didn't want to interrupt your mental assessment of the student body, but you seemed a bit lonely," the girl said. Her lips were quirked up into what seemed like a smile but John couldn't be completely sure with the amount of black lipstick she wore. "I'm Rose. You are?"

"John. Uhm, John Egbert."

"Well, John Egbert, I'm assuming you're new to our fair city."

"Yeah. I just moved here from Washington," John said sheepishly. This Rose girl intimidated him in ways he didn't realize possible. She seemed nice enough though, sitting with a poor nerd like himself.

"I figured that I could help out a noob like yourself and show you around a bit, maybe introduce you to some benevolent figures to aid you in your endeavors."

Her manner of speaking was so unusual yet unbelievably familiar.

"One of them being my idiot friend, who seems to have gotten lost on his way through the lunch line. Oh, no, there he is." Rose made a vague gesture with her hand, eyes locked on someone over John's shoulder. Following her gaze led him to staring straight at none other than Dave.

"Th-That's the friend you were talking about?"

"Well, he's my brother technically. But I don't feel like going into the convoluted story of how we're related."

"Rose, what the fuck? You said you'd wait for me," Dave said as he approached the table.

A noncommittal noise sounded in Rose's throat. "And I did."

What would have been a scowl on someone who possessed the ability to convey emotion properly passed over Dave's features. He dropped the juice box and sandwich he was carrying on the table with a low thud.

"Yeah whatever. Have fun with your little friend," was all the taller blonde said before he walked away.

All was silent for a span of maybe two minutes. "Is he always like that?" John ventured cautiously.

"No. He's usually a bit more civil than that. He may seem cool but he really doesn't know how to handle himself around people since they irritate him more often than not. I'm assuming he's just pissy because of his brother. That, and teenage angst is hitting him like a freight train."

John nodded slowly, trying to take in everything that Rose had told him.

"I don't think he likes me very much," he mumbled.

Rose gave him a cryptic smile that had his skin crawling. "Possibly. Or maybe he likes you a bit more than he thinks he should. Guess we'll have to wait and see."

* * *

**Poorly written and significantly shorter than the first chapter; I ran out of steam halfway through it pretty much.**

**Anywho, how does one John? How does one Dave? God I'm bad at writing for this fandom.**

**I do plan on having GamKat in here, and maybe SolKat. Why? Cause it's cute, and I can. You can always skip those parts when we get there.**

**And not that I don't appreciate all the favs and follows, but can I get a few reviews? No need to flood my inbox or anything, just a couple would suffice. It makes my day and lets me know how to proceed.**

**Thanks a bunch! Love and cuddles for everyone.**

**~Chickadee**


	3. Chapter 3

**musicalBlink – Haha, I haven't found too many people that actually like GamKat, but it's one of favs so thank you. ^^**

**Mountain Dew Monster – Thanks! And John didn't take the time to learn their names, only knows them by their online handles. (First chapter, bottom of paragraph one)**

**Anon – Success! My readers will be doing ALL of the chuckling!**

**Moonfire8 – It's a miracle (see what I did there?) that my sense of humor emulates Hussie's in a way, cause otherwise, my jokes would be un-funny and not fit. I'll keep 'em coming too, so just sit and enjoy darling!**

* * *

**Dave: Sulk quietly.**

He'd never gotten along with other kids in elementary school, especially after the incident where he punched a boy in the face for making fun of his pointed shades. They were a gift from his brother; Dave would defend them to the bitter end. After that, people generally stayed away from the blonde. Over time he guessed that he began to resent them and grew to enjoy his isolation. People were generally too clingy, or too demanding for the independent Strider child to handle. So with some smooth words and a cool gesture he pushed them away. The only reason he originally let Rose close to him was because of the blood ties they shared, but he eventually came to love the psychoanalyst. She was the exception.

Dave was reconsidering this though, as he sat and scowled at his desk. Rose was doing that _thing_ again, that thing where she tried to have him play nice with other people. It simply wasn't going to happen. That boy and his baby blue eyes would be his downfall if he ever got close to him. The way he stumbled over his words when he spoke had Dave near swooning. Was it legal for someone to be so adorable? Well it shouldn't be, he thought. His eyes flicked over to the black haired boy for probably the sixth time within the past four minutes. He was diligently taking notes and jotting down the practice problems, chewing at his lower lip. Come to think of it, John almost looked like a little rabbit when he did that. Dave groaned, letting his cheek rest on the smooth desktop, willing away the thought of that derp with bunny ears and a fluffy tail.

This was stupid.

Everything was stupid.

He hated everything.

The angst was driving him mad. Pale fingers going almost white from the grip he had on his ballpoint pen, Dave started scribbling down some lyrics. Words flowed easily once he began tapping out the rhythm he wanted with his foot. Drawing himself back up, he added accent beats with his left hand as the right moved feverishly across the page. He was vaguely aware of the silent chatter around him but was too far gone to really notice it stopping.

"Strider."

Scratch that, scribble it out, he could find better words to put there later.

"Mr. Strider."

His little finger was tapping the rhythm he wanted for the high-hats, and it sounded pretty good if he did so himself. Dave was nearing the last line of his unrevised song when his notebook was forcefully pulled out from under him. The pen left a long streak across the page, continuing from the tail end of a 't' he was about to cross. He looked up with anger and frustration and a twinge of fear knocking around in his chest.

"Yes?" he asked, not willing to back down even if it meant getting himself a detention. This old dame had it out for him since he started going to this school so it wasn't as if Bro would really give a damn. He'd had her too; Bro had spent many a school day terrorizing the hag that stood before him now.

"Please, I realize that you don't care about your grades and have a lovely future as a drop out, but you could at least _pretend_ to listen when I talk."

His jaw tightened along with vice on his pen. The plastic was cracking under the pads of his fingers and it hurt but it didn't matter as long as it kept him from clocking this lady in the jaw.

"Will do, Ms. Vance. Not a problem."

She held his gaze for a moment longer before giving him a curt nod, making her way back to the front of the class room with his notebook still in hand.

"You can get this after class, Mr. Strider."

All eyes were on him, and not in the way he'd always dreamed. His fingers flexed and curled around the edge of the desk as he tried to regain his cool. People didn't bother him. Neither did this lady with a stick so far up her ass it had no hope of ever coming out. He was fine.

Dave ignored how black and blue danced on the edge of his vision, searing metaphorical holes into his aviators for the rest of class.

Seventh period was over after what felt like years and Dave had snatched his notebook off the edge of Ms. Vance's desk with a crippling glare. The old woman remained unaffected. What the fuck ever.

He'd made it about halfway down the hall when he heard his name being called. Dave stopped where he was and looked over his shoulder. Lo and behold, the blue-eyed wonder was jogging after him, getting jostled by other students as he pushed towards him. A worn piece of notebook paper was clenched in his fist. From the distance Dave could barely make out black block-style letters and doodles framing the edge of the page. His heart dropped.

"Yeah?"

"You…gosh I hate running, crap…this, uh, fell out of your notebook," John said, panting softly as he approached his stoic classmate. When he noticed the slightly horrified look on Dave's face (he was getting good at noticing his slight facial expressions) he let out a bit of a squeak. "I didn't read it or anything, I swear! I just figured it was probably important to you and thought you'd want it back so I picked it up to give back and yeah…"

His sentence turned into nonsensical gibberish and John figured it was high time to stop talking. He clamped his mouth shut, leaving his hand outstretched so Dave could reclaim his writings.

The blonde looked from his face to the paper and back before carefully plucking it from his fingers. Skin brushed briefly and John wondered why his face was all warm, and why Dave's fingers were so calloused. Standing close to him he noticed the bandages wrapped around a few of his knuckles. Maybe it was from more strifes with his brother, like the cut on his cheek.

"You ramble a lot, Egbert. But thanks anyways."

"You know my name?" John asked, wide eyed and incredulous. He hadn't gotten the chance to tell him what his name was earlier that morning as far as he could remember. Dave just looked at him somewhat confused.

"Yeah, man. You're in six of my classes. I'd be the biggest asshole alive if I didn't remember your name under these circumstances."

John's face was about the same shade of red as the sleeves on the young Strider's shirt by now. "Oh."

"Yep. So thanks again for picking this up, I'd probably fly off the handle if I'd lost it," Dave said, looking down at the paper in his hands. As he continued, he didn't look like he was really aware of the fact he was still speaking. "I'd do a pirouette off the handle and win like a freaking Olympic medal for it. I'll be idolized for my ability in flying off handles. It'd be crazy."

Dave finished his prolonged metaphor, a vocal quirk he'd picked up from Bro many years ago, and stood silent in front of a shell-shocked Egbert. For a good fifteen seconds they just looked at each other. Then John couldn't even try to keep himself from looking stupid.

"Do you wanna hang out later?" he spluttered, tripping over the words as his fingers played with the edges of his t-shirt.

Dave was quiet and shook his head. "Can't. I got stuff to do tonight, busy as always."

For the second time that day, John had to watch one Dave Strider walk away from him after shooting down his attempts at friendship.

**Dave: Be the dejected youth.**

The only thing that would soothe his aching soul right now would be a movie marathon. John hiked his backpack higher on his shoulders and navigated through the streets to the little movie shop he'd discovered earlier that week. A chime above head alerted the staff to his arrival, and they greeted the familiar face with a smile and a wave. He forced a small smile, just to be polite, and started perusing the shelves. He'd picked up two or three DVDs when he came across a couple of kids about his age. A second glance proved them to be the boys he'd seen at lunch.

The shorter boy was holding a DVD case, rambling about what John assumed was the plotline of the movie, while his friend just smiled and nodded. John shifted his weight to try and see around them without being noticed but a pair of violet eyes caught his. The taller one straightened to his full height, one arm settling around his pal's shoulders.

"Hey there, motherfucker. Need us to move?" His voice was low and melodic, amiable but with an edge. John was more than a little unnerved at this boy's use of profanity.

"No, i-it's okay, really."

"Gamzee, who are you talking- FUCK, PUT ME DOWN!"

Gamzee, apparently, had wrapped his lanky arms around Shorty's waste, easily lifting him and moving him aside.

"Calm down, Karkles, this brother over here needs to see the movies," he said with another chuckle. Shorty's head whipped around to look at John.

"Who're you?" he bit out.

John swallowed anxiously. "John. John Egbert."

Shorty nodded. "I'm Karkat. This doofus," he jerked a thumb at his friend who just waved happily, "is Gamzee."

"Nice to meet you," John said, daring a few steps closer. Karkat looked over his arm at the stack of movies he held and grinned.

"You've got good taste."

Never before had anyone, not even his own father, complimented his taste in movies. John's heart soared at the comment.

"Really? Normally people think my movies suck…"

Gamzee, who had previously just been watching the two interact with a distracted smile, laughed. "Nobody has worse taste than Karkles. He all up and dragged me here to get a bunch of fucking romcoms."

Karkat flushed, smacking Gamzee in the chest. "Shut up, you dick! Anyways John, do you have a pesterChum?"

Oh gosh, he was making friends! John nodded excitedly. "It's ectoBiologist."

"Now you don't have to motherfucking take me to see every cliché chick flick with you," Gamzee cooed, resting his head on top of Karkat's as his arms circled the petite body once more. Karkat struggled in his hold for a second before relenting. He knew he wasn't as strong as Gamz. There wasn't any use in fighting. Meanwhile John just wondered idly if these two were a couple.

"Stop talking, Gamzee. Nobody wants to hear the shit that comes out of your mouth. Nobody." Gamzee made to argue this but Karkat cut him off. "We're leaving now. Bye, John."

"Bye, John!" Gamzee echoed in a song-song voice, earning a growl and a slap from Karkat.

John just stood there and smiled and thought about how cool it was that he had a friend now in his new home that would talk about amazing movies with him. He could pester Karkat about his relationship with Gamzee later, after he finished his mini-cinema marathon at home of course.

* * *

**Oh, woe is me! After trying two different drafts of this chapter I decided this would have to do. Progress is being made.**

**WHERE MAKING THIS HAPEN.**

**Yeah. I went there.**

**Anyways, please keep up with the reviews! They're a great motivator and I do try to respond to them at the beginnings of chapters. Next chapter will probably be later than this one because school is starting up again soon, and just for those of you who care, I'm working on a GamKar oneshot right now. I wanna make it super long though so it's just this epic piece of literature so it may be a while.**

**Snuggles and cupcakes for all of you.**

**~Chickadee**


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